The New Residents of New Rochelle
by 876543345
Summary: What if the Stephens family and the Petrie family were neighbors? Crossover fic.


**I wrote this a few years ago and recently found it in my Trash on my hard drive (even though I thought I deleted it permanently). Thought I'd publish because, why not? To my recollection, these were really fun characters to write.**

* * *

"What's cooking, honey?" Robert Petrie whispers, sidling up behind his wife in the kitchen and wrapping his arms around her, pressing a chaste kiss to her neck.

Laura smiles.

"Oh, Rob, you scared me!" she replies, resuming cutting apples firmly with a knife. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Really?" Rob says, surprised.

"No, I was being sarcastic. Honey, you left the door open, tripped over Richie's train set and hit your shin on the coffee table. I think they heard you yelling over in Staten Island."

"Well, it was all in a haste to get home to my beautiful wife. I'm a fool for you, Laura."

"A fool for my cooking, more like," Laura corrects him wryly. "But no, this isn't for us. I'm making a pie for our new neighbors across the road. The Stephens, have you met them?"

"Oh, oh yeah!" Rob remembers. "I think I saw them move in yesterday. The kinda grumpy-looking fella and the cute blonde?"

Laura turns around and glares at him.

"Not that she could hold a candle to you, Laurie. You know I prefer brunettes."

Laura narrows her eyes, and turns to prepare the pastry. "I noticed they had a little girl. Maybe a playmate for Richie?" she continues.

A retching sound can be heard from the next room.

"I don't speak nine year old, but I think that's a pass." Rob says, amused.

Laura relents. "I guess she was a little young. But we should still go over; say hi. Welcome them to the neighborhood, tell them the best spots..."  
"Tell them to tune in to the Alan Brady show." Rob finishes.

"Rob! This is an opportunity to make some new friends! This is no time for shameless self-promotion!"

"But honey, the best way to get to know me is through my writing!" Rob protests. "And we could use the ratings."

"Oh, I don't think this family is the television type." Laura replies airily. "They seemed...more cultured. With a sense of, _je ne sais quoi_."

"You got all that from three seconds of staring through their car window?" Rob says disbelievingly.

"I don't know, Rob, there's something about them. They're no Millie and Jerry Helper, that's for sure."

"Well, that much I can be glad for."

* * *

"Well, I guess we're all unpacked now," Samantha smiles.

"And not a single helping hand from the old nose twitch. I'm proud of you, honey." Darrin replies, kissing his wife on the cheek.

"Well, since we've made it _this_ far with our combined mortal strengths, we may as well finish. I think the piano could be just a few inches to the left, don't you think?"

Darrin sighs.

"You know what, Sam, I think I just threw my back out carrying the ottoman. You wouldn't mind…?"

"The ottoman," drawls a sly female voice. "He threw out his back carrying an ottoman. Really Samantha, I didn't expect you to marry a Greek olympian god, but couldn't you at least have found a fair compromise?"

"Mother!" Samantha snaps. "I love Darrin, weak back and all."

"I don't have a…" Darrin begins, springing up in protest, before keeling over slightly and hissing in pain. "I'll go make us some coffee." He limps off.

Sam waits until he's out of view, before flicking her finger, sliding the piano to the left. "Yes, I believe that's much better."

She turns to face Endora.

"Mother, I think New Rochelle could be a great new start for us. Maybe you would consider turning over a new leaf and making nice with Darrin. He is very nervous about this new promotion."

"Durwood, Durwood, Durwood. All we you ever talk about is that dopey mortal. Come, Samantha, if we must stay on the mortal plane, why don't we take a trip to Paris, or Milan? Somewhere that doesn't smell like…" she sniffs distastefully. "...cheap plywood."

Samantha shakes her head. "I like it here, mother, and if you're sticking around you're just going to have to get used to it!"

"To think, we're almost in New York and yet you chose to live in New York _adjacent_. I'm beginning to think you're living your whole life in the adjacent," she says, nodding towards the piano that had been maneuvered slightly to the left."

"I already told you, Darrin needs to live in the suburbs. He doesn't like the city. Too much walking and bustling crowds."

"Well, there's always something to be done about _that_ ," Endora says.

Samanatha fixes her mother with a stern look. "Now look here, mother, millions of people live in New York and if you zap away any of them-"

"Speak of the devils," Endora cuts in, before the doorbell sounds out.

Samantha's eyes widen.

"Oh, that must be the new neighbors." she says, a hand over her mouth. "They're here so early, I haven't even had time to change!"

"It only takes two seconds to wriggle your nose, Samantha."

"No, mother. I made a promise to Darrin. I'm opening the door, as is." she says, looking down at her casual blue shirt and jeans. "My neighbors may as well see my in my natural habitat."

"Your natural habitat is being up in the sky being fed grapes by harp players."

"Begone, mother!" Samantha snaps, before hurrying to the door and opening it.

Laura and Rob stood there, smiling awkwardly.

"Oh, you must be the Petries. Come in!" Samantha smiles. "I think I saw your name on the credits for the Alan Brady Show?"

"See, what did I tell you, honey?" Rob says to Laura through gritted teeth.

"I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. We made you an apple pie." Laura says.

"Oh, a housewarming pie. The hellish suburban fantasy is complete." Endora says under her breath.

"Oh Darrin, won't you come out and say hi to our neighbors?" Samantha calls, taking the pie.  
"Just a second honey," comes the pained reply from the kitchen.

"He's slightly...tired out, from all the moving." Samantha explains awkwardly. "Won't you stay for coffee?"

"Oh, we'd love to, but we wouldn't want to intrude," Laura says. "We'll just - oh, hello there, sweetie!"

She spies Tabitha, who appears behind Samantha, hugging her legs.

"Mommy," whines Tabitha, tugging at Sam's shirt. "I want to play with Little Red Riding Hood but she won't come out and play."

"Tabitha," Samantha says, fixing her with a stern look. "Remember what I said about reading? Look at the pictures and picture the story in your _head_."

"Our Richie has an overactive mind too, sometimes." Laura laughs awkwardly.

"No, he doesn't. He can barely count to fifty," Rob cuts in.

Tabitha frowns at the new neighbors.

"Did you bring food?" she says.

Sam gives Tabitha a warning squeeze on the shoulder.

"Yes, we made apple pie," Laura says, gesturing towards the pie.

"I don't like apples. Can it be cherry instead?" Tabitha says plainly, before reaching to put her finger on her nose. Sam catches her at the last moment with her free hand.

"Tabitha has a cold right now. Tabitha, what did I tell you about blowing your nose in front of guests!"

"But you didn't-"

Samantha narrows her eyes slightly, and Tabitha seems to understand, slipping off.

"You'll have to excuse Tabitha's manners. She gets it from her _grandmother_ ," she said, enunciating the last word to ensure all traces of Endora have gone.

Darrin appears at the door, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. He smiles uneasily at the guests.

"You must be the TV writer," he says. "You're practically famous around here."

"Practically-" Rob begins indignantly, before stopping in his tracks and walking to shake Darrin's hand. "Yup, you'll - you'll hear my name a few times on the streets of New Rochelle. Tell me, Mr Stephens, what is your all-time favorite Alan Brady sketch?"

Darrin turns pale slightly. "Well, uh-"

"Darrin's not really a comedy fan. He prefers the news." Samantha says quickly.

"And sports. Sports too," Darrin cuts in. He senses the tension, and rushes to correct it.

"But-but don't sell me so short, Sam, I'm not so square. I've been known to have a funny bone or two."

"Let's not forget the funniest part of your body; your face," Endora drawls, appearing behind Darrin.

Samantha's eyes widen.

"Mother! I thought you were gone!"

"How could I miss such a special occasion? Four neighbors, bonding over television and apple pie. How...fascinatingly average."

Rob and Laura share a glance.

"Well, we're not so average. Did you know that at least eighty percent of Alan Brady sketches are based on my real life experiences?"

"Rob, I don't think anyone here watches Alan Brady," Laura hisses.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Rob, and this is my wife, Laura." Rob extends his hand to Endora, taking in the sight of her appearance up with half-amusement, half-shock.

Endora takes his hand begrudgingly, shaking it slightly.

"Charmed," she says simply, before leaning to Samantha and saying barely above a whisper, "Is it just me, or is each mortal I meet goofier looking than the last?"

Samantha clears her throat.

"Let's all sit down together and have a coffee and a slice of pie. It smells delicious," she announces. "Mother, don't you have an appointment to get to?"

"Like a date with Satan?" Darrin adds quietly.

Samantha's eyes widen when she spots Tabitha's teddy bear in the corner of her eye, flying in perfect circles around the room.

"Tabitha!" she hisses, surveying the room for the offending toddler.

Rob and Laura find themselves being ushered almost forcefully into the kitchen, but to no avail as Rob sees the teddy bear in orbit just before they reach the door.

"Gee, that's neat," he says, mouth agape.

"Is that teddy bear flying?" Laura gasps.

"Yes...you see, it's this new product we're advertising for, at the firm." Darrin says quickly. "Flying...flying teddy bears. Like a flying helicopter, except…" he stutters. "Uh...teddy bears."

"Well that's...nice. But how does he fly without any wings?" Laura says.

Rob nudges his wife. "Have a little imagination, Laura."

"Is that...is that ottoman flying too?" Laura gasps, noticing that the leather seat was beginning to also take flight.

"Uh...yes. We do flying ottomans too," Darrin says, ushering the couple into the kitchen before he ended up having to explain a whole range of flying products.

Samantha finds Tabitha on the staircase and puts her hands on her hips.

"Tabitha Stephens, if you cause any more trouble you won't have dessert for a week," she says.

Tabitha pouts, and slowly releases the teddy bear and ottoman to the ground.

* * *

In the kitchen, Rob and Laura share a long, quizzical look at each other.

"Well, you were right, honey. They do have a little - _Je ne sais quoi_ about them."

Laura snorts. "Je ne sais quoi? Rob, these people are circus freaks!"

"Hey, Laurie, do you think we could ask about those flying bears? Maybe Richie would like one for his birthday."

"Rob, we're not getting Richie a flying _anything_ until he's sixteen. And don't even ask about the flying ottomans, you can barely keep yourself from tripping over the ones that _don't_ move."

"...Touche," Rob says.


End file.
